


Dictionary Of Us

by thenleavetheband



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Crying During Sex, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Infidelity, Internalised Homophobia, Louis is very very sad, M/M, Pining, Toxic Relationships, mentions of self harm, there's so much angst it's almost dumb, they don't cope with feelings very well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2344946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenleavetheband/pseuds/thenleavetheband
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“love, n. I'm not even going to try.” </p><p> </p><p>Louis just wants so badly, but it’s over. It’s so broken that the pieces don’t even fit anymore and whenever they try to scoop them up, slot them back together, they just end up with cut fingertips and blood stained shirts.</p><p>It’s always like this, Louis knows. From one intensity to the next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dictionary Of Us

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Please just let me say before you read, that the boys are slightly- hopefully only slightly, ooc- purely in terms of actions, but it's because of just how broken they are. It's a sad fic, and Nick and Louis just do really dumb things because they're so in love, so please keep that in mind. Oh and also, I don't have a beta, so mistakes are totally my fault. Oh and this is just complete fiction, none of this actually happened. 
> 
> Also, it's written in the style of 'The Lover's Dictionary' (which is absolutely amazing and should definitely be read by everyone), so there is no kept timeline, for example, the beginning of their relationship is written in the middle of the fic; i really really hope it's not too confusing!
> 
> Warnings: Massive amounts of infidelity, mentions of self harm(scratches), huge huge huge internalised homophobia which leads to homophobic language, Louis gets outed and it's just really quite sad.

_Admission (n) - a statement acknowledging the truth of something_

 

‘Don’t you fucking dare say that to me now! Don’t you fucking dare.’ Nick bellows.

 

His flat is empty. The place is trashed. The party he was throwing had died down slowly, Louis had been watching from a bench on the street outside. He hadn’t worried about being recognised, the party goers had stumbled down the steps of Nick’s building and practically fallen out into the street, giggling and clutching at each other without so much as glancing at him. His heart had pounded a bit when he’d clocked Harry, but Haz had simply slid into the black car waiting by the side of the street and sped off in the other direction. 

 

Louis wasn’t really sure what it was that he was doing here. His head was fucked. 

 

When he was pretty certain everyone had gone- Nick always puts on Forever Young whenever his parties are over, as like a commiseration, Louis thinks, and the song could just about be heard from the pavement- he had ambled his way over to Nick’s building. 

 

He had pressed the buzzer slowly, like he was scared that once he took his finger off, it would all go to shit. Nick would be gone from him forever. In an all honesty, he hadn’t been a hundred percent sure that wasn’t what would happen.

 

‘Hellooooo,’ Nick had crooned happily, his voice tinny and far away down the machine. 

 

‘It’s me.’ Louis had replied. ‘Let me in yeah?’

 

He’d been buzzed in after what felt like years of complete silence. The flat had been empty, the stench of cigarette smoke and some sort of fruity cocktail lingered thickly in the air. Nick always tried to clear up at least a little directly after a party, so there were empty wine and vodka bottles piled by the side of the sink and a pile of dirty dishes on the floor. Nick had watched him, warily, like he knew exactly what Louis was going to do. 

 

‘Please.’ Louis had said. 

 

‘Don’t do this Louis.’ Nick had answered. Louis didn’t need to see the bags under his eyes to know that Nick was tired, his tone of voice practically screamed of his exhaustion.

 

‘I have to. I can’t… I have to, please.’ 

 

‘Fuck off, Louis. I mean it, fuck off.’

 

‘I lo-‘

 

‘Don’t you fucking dare say that to me now! Don’t you fucking dare!’ 

 

Louis watches him quietly then. Nick’s hair is fucked and way too many of his shirt buttons are undone, and there’s a love bite Louis definitely did not give him running along his collarbone. His house smells of booze and Louis’ hands are shaking. He doesn’t even like the guy that much; fuck what Harry says, he’s not kidding, he really doesn’t even _like_ Nick that much. 

 

Nick exhales a noise that sounds achingly like a whimper. ‘Louis please don’t do this.’

 

Louis’ crossing the room before Nick can even finish speaking, rising up onto his toes and pressing his lips to Nick’s. His hand shakes as he clenches it in Nick’s hair, and it’s not soft or sweet or loving. 

 

He honestly can’t remember the last time it was. That’s the thing about drowning yourself in someone else, when it starts to hurt, it fucking _hurts_. And that’s always, always, always, when you’re too far gone anyway.

 

Nick bites down on his lip as he grabs Louis’ arse and yanks him up, trying to press him as close to Nick’s body as possible. It causes Louis to stumble against him, his fingers tugging at Nick’s hair whilst he tries to steady himself without breaking the kiss. 

 

‘Fuck you,’ Nick pants against him, grinding down hard. His fingers are digging into Louis’ arse, too hard to be pleasant really, but Louis doesn’t think they do this for pleasure anymore. 

 

They do this just to make sure they can re-open wounds the other really really wants to keep closed. Nick can bitch at him for coming to his birthday party all he wants, but only two weeks ago he was sucking Louis off in the toilet at a big fucking gala of celebrities just because Louis had been chatting with a male model. A fucking engaged male model that Louis knew Fizzy found really hot. At most, he’d wanted an autograph. 

 

So Nick can fuck off with that. He can fuck off with acting like he’s not just as fucked up about this as Louis is. At least Louis can admit it, kind of. 

 

Nick just fucking runs away. 

 

‘You want to stop, then stop,’ Louis murmurs, kissing down Neck’s neck and sucking a mark just under Nick’s jaw. He sucks hard and bites too sharply and knows that on some level, he is actually _hurting_ Nick, but he can’t stop. Not when he can see the love bite on Nick’s collarbone. 

 

‘Nick?’ Louis asks as he lets his hands skim underneath Nick’s shirt, shamelessly rolling his hips against Nick’s because it feels so fucking good. It always feels so good.

 

‘God, Lou,’ Nick’s trying to walk them backwards now, desperately alternating between kissing Louis and trying to yank his top off him, his moves uncoordinated like he’s not sure which he finds more important. 

 

‘You want to stop?’ Louis asks right as he’s pressed up against the wall, his hip knocking into the table that Nick keeps in the hallway. 

 

Nick kisses him then, an almost gentle press of lips in comparison to the angry, biting kisses of earlier. 

 

‘I never want to stop Louis,’ he replies tiredly, stroking a hand down Louis’ jaw. It’s tender and soft and Louis doesn’t like it like this, because he and Nick stumbled out of that territory months ago, they rid themselves of intimacy like it was a fever neither of them could learn to live with.

 

‘Then fuck me.’ Louis snaps, fumbling with the buttons of his jeans. ‘Or did you use up all your fucking jizz on that new lad you’re seeing hmm?’

 

Nick’s face contorts like he hates Louis more than anything else in the world and Louis can get behind that, can understand that. So he raises his eyebrow and lazily palms himself over his boxers. 

 

‘Don’t talk about him. Don’t talk about someone I care about when I’m fucking you,’ Nick replies bluntly and knocks Louis’ hand away, gripping Louis’ dick tightly. It makes Louis want to throw his head back and fucking laugh. _Someone he cares about._ Yeah fucking right. It Louis’ dick he’s stroking. 

 

‘Get these the fuck off then,’ Nick murmurs blankly, his face devoid of any kind of emotion as he yanks at Louis’ underwear. Louis grins and it feels so empty, it feels so false, he’s not sure how it even stays on his face as he steps out of his boxers and then strips Nick down. 

 

Nick wanks him off harshly, smearing the pre come around sort of half-heartedly, like he wants it burn. Louis isn’t surprised. It’s kind of a weird angle, Nick’s having to slouch a bit and his shoulder is pressing into Louis’ neck but he doesn’t say anything. He’s opened his mouth too many times at the wrong moment to have Nick back off, say no, dress himself and leave. Or kick Louis out. 

 

He finds it easier to have sex with Nick when Nick’s genuinely angry at him. Genuinely dislikes him. Easier definitely. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t kill like a bitch to have Nick stare at him like he’s a stranger he picked up at a bar for a quick fuck. 

 

Not when they have a history that stretches back so far and is full of shit and fights and sex.

 

But you can’t have shit both ways, Louis knows. So he takes having Nick hate him whilst fucking him, over… the other fucking option. 

 

They’re on the floor then, Nick cupping Louis’s lower back as he drags him down to the floor. Nick’s grinding his dick against the jut of Louis’ hipbone as he continues to stroke Louis, twisting his hand on the upstroke. He grunts and spreads Louis’ legs, his hand slipping between Louis’ cheeks to press against his hole. 

 

‘Don’t have lube,’ Nick mutters. Louis gasps as Nick begins to stroke around his hole and arse cheeks, never pressing inside, just light sweeps of his fingers and hands. Louis shudders and turns onto his stomach, reaching for his jeans and pulling out a tiny tube of lube from the pocket. He turns awkwardly, weight on his elbows, to press it into Nick’s hand.

 

‘That won’t be enough,’ Nick comments. 

 

‘I know. Don’t mind.’ He replies, whining a little when Nick takes his fingers away. He doesn’t watch Nick coat his fingers but when he slips them back against Louis’ arse, they’re wet and cold. Nick presses one finger in, and Louis can’t help but arch his back and groan. Nick was right- it wasn’t enough fucking lube and it hurts. 

 

Louis’ never really been good at relaxing during sex, he gets too into it, too passionate. When they first started this thing, Nick used to spend hours just fingering Louis, keeping him on edge for ages before he thought Louis would be alright to actually have sex without hurting himself.

 

They don’t do that anymore, don’t fuck like that, so now, with the burn and the stretch and the silence from Nick as he drops his head to Louis’ back, Louis feels a little bit like he might cry. 

 

In fact, he can feel it welling up in his throat. His chest starts to tighten and all Louis can do is try to breathe through it, dropping his forehead to the floor when his eyes sting with tears. It feels so good, sex with Nick is an overwhelming type of ecstasy that Louis adores, but God it hurts, it fucking hurts so much.  

 

Nick works his way up to three fingers, and it doesn’t really stop burning but there’s an undercurrent of pleasure now that feels so familiar. So familiar with Nick. There’s a low, steady thrum of _goodgoodgoodmoremoremore_ that has Louis whining a little, gasping whenever Nick’s fingers twist and press inside of him. 

 

Finally, finally, after what feels like fucking ever, Nick presses inside of him, his hand guiding his dick. Nick’s big, he’s always been so big and it feels so good that Louis moans, pushing his arse back, desperate for Nick to keep going.

 

The tears fall down Louis’ cheeks before he can even decide what to do about it, and he can’t fucking breathe, gasping huge wracking breaths as he turns his face left so that the side of his face is pressed into the carpet. 

 

‘ _Darling_ ,’ Nick moans, pushing even further into him as he leans forward, resting his forehead against Louis’ cheek. He can’t help the sob that escapes at that. ‘Louis, darling, fuck,’ 

 

‘Keep going,’ Louis pleads, reaching down to wank himself off, feeling so full and so desperate to come. ‘Nick, don’t stop.’

 

And so he doesn’t. He fucks Louis hard, gently unwrapping Louis’ hand from where it’s clamped around his cock and replacing it with his own, softly wanking Louis off as he continues to fuck harshly into him. It’s such a contradiction and Louis doesn’t know what to do about it, constantly feels like Nick is abiding by rules that Louis’ doesn’t know. He hates loses his control, hates having it taken from him, and he feels like that’s all Nick is ever doing; constantly taking away Louis’ control and leaving him blind and vulnerable. Louis doesn’t know why he keeps coming back, hates himself for it. Hates it so badly, God. 

 

Nick kisses Louis’ cheek over and over like he’s collecting Louis’ tears, swallowing them whole. When Louis comes, he’s sobbing openly. 

 

Nick looks slightly broken as he clumsily wipes at the tears, still stroking Louis through it with his free hand. 

 

‘You want me to pull out?’ He asks and it sets off something frantic in Louis, something desperate that makes him push back and clench his arse hole, trying to pull Nick closer, keep Nick with him for as long as he can. 

 

‘No please don’t stop, please, please, feels so good,’ he begs, his words thick with tears.

 

And he’s not lying, it feels so good Louis isn’t even sure of what day it is anymore, only aware of the content warmth spreading through his body and the slight throb of pain in his arse. 

After Nick comes, they don’t speak. They fill the flat with their stifling silence. Louis can’t be sure of who it was that fucked them up first. Who made the first move, that was just that tiny little crack that lead to the splintered mess they are now. 

 

But it doesn’t stop Nick from reaching for him, from leading both of their sticky bodies down to Nick’s bedroom and tugging them both into bed. He holds Louis when he starts to cry again and strokes down Louis’ back to his bum in long, smooth movements.

 

Louis just _wants_ so badly, but it’s over. It’s so broken that the pieces don’t even fit anymore and whenever they try to scoop them up, slot them back together, they just end up with cut fingertips and blood stained shirts.

 

It’s always like this, Louis knows. From one intensity to the next. 

 

-

 

_Coffee (n) - a beverage consisting of a decoction or infusion of the roasted ground or crushed seeds (coffee beans) of the two-seeded fruit (coffee berry) of certain coffee trees._

 

‘The fuck is this?’ Louis asks blearily, peering into the cup. His head is throbbing. He can see the vodka bottle on the bedside table where he dumped it last night before they fell into bed. 

 

‘It’s coffee.’

 

‘Nicholas,’ he groans and falls back into the bed, pulling the covers up tighter around him and closing his eyes. ‘I was sleeping. And you woke me up, for fucking coffee.’ 

 

There’s dead silence for about five seconds before the heavy weight of Nick’s body plops down onto Louis causing him to grunt under the weight and wriggle around to try and shift Nick off him. 

 

‘Unless you want me to vomit on you,’ Louis says. ‘I suggest you get the fuck off me right the fuck now,’ 

 

Nick laughs, a quiet warm noise and eases off his body, nudging Louis further into the middle of the bed and spooning up behind him, nuzzling into the back of Louis’ neck. Louis still squirms, but doesn’t actively try to get away, because, well because it feels really nice. 

 

Like, comforting. He relaxes back into Nick’s hold, struggling to get his right arm up out from under the duvet so he can grasp at Nick’s fingers and tangle his own into his Nick’s hand. 

 

‘Gotta go soon,’ Nick murmurs and Louis closes his eyes tighter. 

 

‘Hmm.’

 

He stays for a bit longer anyway, Louis would say about twenty minutes more. And in those twenty minutes, Louis lets himself doze, warm and tired in Nick’s arms. His limbs slightly achey from a night of drinking. They’d only got back from tour yesterday, but Nick had begged off of his date and come straight round. They’d drunk way too much and fucked way too hard and Louis thought it was a little bit perfect. 

 

When he feels Nick start to shift behind him, he squeezes his fingers around Nick’s tighter, only for a couple of seconds, but long enough for him to feel like he at least tried to get Nick to stay. 

 

Nick’s kneeling up on the bed when Louis cracks an eye open, looking at himself in the mirror across on the other side of the bedroom. 

 

‘Going to Max’s?’ Louis asks even though it’s not really a question. They both know he is. 

 

‘Yep.’ Nick says and it’s cheerful and light as he turns away from the mirror, and Louis hates his Max voice more than anything. More than everything else. 

 

‘Hmm. Gonna be seeing you soon?’ Louis asks. It’s an improvement, he thinks. He never used to be able to ask. Instead he’d just lounge around, go to rehearsal, go to interviews, go to clubs and if any of that coincided with Nick’s schedule, he’d find a way to get Nick alone and then suck him off. 

 

But it’s been three months. And they’re seeing each other at least twice a week, if they can, and Louis hates not knowing when he’ll see Nick again. He hates it. So he throws away the last bit of pride he has and asks. God, for what feels like maybe the first time in his life, he’s started to ask. He’s literally putting himself out there and he knows, he fucking knows, that it’s stupid because this can only end badly. But he does it anyway. 

 

Nick sighs. ‘I don’t know Lou… I’m not sure we should, you know, like-’

 

‘See each other again.’ Louis finishes. ‘Yeah, I know.’ 

 

It’s like a routine. A sad routine. A dumb routine. A routine that is completely fucking stupid and doesn’t matter at all because no matter how much they agree that this is the last time, it never fucking is. 

 

Louis can’t stay away. And he hates himself for it. God, he hates himself for it and he hates Nick and he fucking hates that this is what it’s come down to. He really fucking hates that. 

 

Because now he gets to watch Nick when he leaves. And just pray he’ll come back.

 

Nick’s at the doorway when he pauses. ‘I’ve got the day off tomorrow. So, then maybe?’

 

‘What. You not gonna be spending it fucking Max? Go for a little picnic? Whisper sweet nothings as you fuck your long term boyfriend and text me at the same time?’ 

 

Louis’ not oblivious to how he is. He knows he’s fucking mean when he wants to be. With Nick, it always gets kind of amplified, until he just turns cruel. 

 

Nick rests his head against the door. ‘Max is with his mum. Unavoidable. Wanna come over or not?’ 

 

‘Yeah.’ 

 

‘Right then.’ 

 

When he leaves, Louis sleeps for eight more hours. 

 

-

 

_Dawn (n) - the first appearance of light in the sky before sunrise._

 

Louis and Nick first kissed at a party Nick was throwing to celebrate his one year anniversary with his boyfriend. 

 

Nick kicked him out of the flat and told Harry that Louis was a prick. 

 

Two days later, Nick had turned up at Louis’ house and fucked him in the hallway. At no point was it gentle, or sweet, or tender. 

 

On the fifth day of this ‘thing’, Louis realised that Nick was something addictive and that if he wanted to stop this before it became something dangerous, he should get the fuck out now. Instead, he blew Nick in the Radio One’s toilets and wanked himself off when Nick dashed back in to actually do his job. 

 

The rest, as they say, was fucked. 

 

-

 

_Fantasise (v) - indulge in daydreaming about something desired_

 

‘Can’t stop thinking about this,’ Nick pants, his thrusts quick and hard. Louis just moans in answer, is all he can answer. It’s always too much. Way too much and nowhere near enough at the same time. 

 

‘Louis, fuck, missed you, missed this,’ 

 

Louis doesn’t think it’s fair that he starts crying. It feels like he’s always crying during sex with Nick and if he didn’t know for a fact that it turned Nick on, he’d be proper embarrassed. And if, for whatever fucked up reason, Nick was to ever tell anyone about it, Louis would walk to the ends of the Earth to deny it. ‘Cos it’s just not fair. None of it, is fucking fair. 

 

‘Don’t, stop,’ Louis sobs, but it’s kind of pointless because Nick doesn’t stop. He doesn’t ever stop fucking him, and he’s never stopped murmuring in his ear. Stupid, awful things like _god louis so beautiful missed you missed your mouth louis come for me love darling mine my louis god fuck so pretty missed you._

 

What Louis’ doing now, with this whole _thing_ with Nick, he likes to think of as organised panic. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to articulate just how terrified he is of what’s going to happen next. He doesn’t think he can put into words how utterly scared he is to loose Nick. But that’s exactly what’s happening now. In two hours, the first bit of Nick will have gone from him. Will have faded away. 

 

Louis thinks he loses people in bits and pieces, until the remaining parts just drift away with the slightest breeze, no longer able to stick around for the careful slices of love that Louis doles out. He and Harry don’t even talk anymore outside of things that involve the band. He’d lost Harry just as slowly as he’s losing Nick and it hurt just as fucking much. 

 

So, he grasps up towards the arm of the sofa, finding Nick’s left hand and pulling it down to his mouth. Louis shuts his eyes- can’t bear to think that Nick’s seeing him like this, so obviously desperate. Maybe even so obviously heartbroken. His lips open around Nick’s fourth finger eagerly, and Louis’ cheeks feel hot as his sucks, his tear tracks cold on his burning cheeks. His tongue slides around the silver band fitted there. Nick stops moving in him, his hips thrusting forward a little in aborted movements, like he just can’t help himself. 

 

Louis opens his eyes then, doesn’t take Nick’s finger out of his mouth, instead sets his teeth around Nick’s engagement ring and watches him. 

 

‘Louis,’ Nick whispers and he sounds shattered. _Good, I want to fucking break you because you broke me first you complete arsehole. You fucking broke me first._

 

Louis slowly bobs his mouth in time with Nick’s strokes on his dick before he slides his mouth off Nick’s finger altogether. He presses a kiss against the pad of Nick’s finger, his own saliva cool against his lips. 

 

He lifts his head, catching Nick’s lips in a kiss and slowly begins to shift his hips, hoping to try and get Nick to start moving again without actually having to ask him. 

 

Nick complies, but only with small grinds, his dick nudging up against Louis’ prostate in a way that’s almost too much. Louis groans and let’s his head fall back, whimpering when Nick’s fist tightens around his cock, but his thrusts remain just as slow and circular. 

 

‘Nick, fuck, move-’

 

‘You could just ask me,’ Nick says breathlessly. ‘Just ask me Lou,’

 

Louis moans loudly, it feels so good. ‘Ask you what?’

 

‘To be with you.’ 

 

Louis honest to god cries out when Nick’s dick presses in at just the right place, such an intense feeling of pleasure shooting all the way down his back and tightening his balls. ‘Don’t wanna be with you,’ Louis mutters and his chest tightens heavily. He tells himself it over and over again; I do not want to be with Nicholas Grimshaw. It doesn’t matter that he’s lying, if he says it enough he can get through the day.

 

‘You’re a fucking liar,’

 

‘And you’re being a shit fuck. Fucking fuck me, come on,’ Louis urges, grabbing Nick’s arse to try and forcibly yank him closer. Nick continues to thrust in, hitting Louis’ prostate over and over again, but his breathing’s a little irregular, his arms a little shaky on either side of Louis’ head. 

 

‘You gonna watch me walk down the aisle then Louis?’ Nick breathes against his ear, pistoning his hips forward. 

 

‘I hate you,’ Louis whispers as he comes, his back arching up off the sofa and his come streaking across his stomach and Nick’s. He can’t breathe with it all. Always seem to loose sense of everything whenever Nick’s cruel. He wants to find it awful. He should be repulsed when Nick says cruel, biting things to him. 

 

In truth, nothing turns him on more. 

 

He glances up at the clock on the wall as Nick shudders on top of him. In an hour and a half, Nick will be legally tied to someone else for the rest of his life, and it doesn’t matter how much sex they have- the word husband will never be fastened around Louis’ neck. Not for Nick. 

 

He’s loosing Nick is bits and pieces, and can only ever seem to find any kind of respite from that pain when they’re shagging. Louis laughs when he realises that for as long as Nick’s been in this relationship, he’s been sleeping with Louis on the side. That this wonderful wedding everyone is coming to enjoy, has been watched and mocked and hated by Louis who’s been through all of it.

 

Louis thinks of Max, Nick’s soon to be husband, and wonders which one of them is more screwed. 

 

-

 

_Hatred (n)- intense dislike; hate_

 

Louis’ not an idiot. He’ll continue blurring the lines between love and hate for as long as he fucking lives, because one is terrifying and the other is so comfortable he can almost feel it wrap around him whenever it clenches against his ribs. Louis can call hatred to him like a loyal pet, and he can let it spill down the veins in his arms and out through his fingertips, clouding the air in front of him. 

 

Louis uses hatred like a shield, and he’s terrified that one day Nick will find out that the hatred Louis directs at him; well, it’s a bit different. 

 

Louis whispers it against Nick’s skin every time they fuck, and hopes that this will be the time the words will actually break the skin against Nick’s neck, that’ll he finally bleed from it. He’ll bleed Louis from his system and then maybe, Louis can get over this thing. Get the fuck over it and find a wife and settle down. 

 

Louis hates Nick. And he’s not an idiot. Louis hates Nick because the alternative is so much worse, and Louis thinks it might break him. No, fuck that. Louis knows it’ll break him, is convinced it may already have. 

 

-

 

_Kooky (adj) - strange or eccentric_

 

Louis likes Nick’s flat because it’s filled with endless piles of such random shit. It’s a proper hipster domain and when they were falling in love, Louis used to tease him about it for ages. Insulting the frankly, awful patterned curtains whilst peppering kisses all down Nick’s jaw and neck. Laughing outright at the weird arse paintings on the wall and then buying Nick a new frame when they accidentally cracked the old one by having sex right up against the wall. 

 

There’s three garden gnomes stood by the door, and a dream catcher hanging down over one window and a huge picture of Britney Spears right next to the Abbey Road poster. 

 

It’s kooky and odd and Louis wants to hate it all so badly, but he’s pretty certain that at the end of all this, Nick’s stupid flat will be one of the things he misses the most. He was so charmed by Nick, so unwillingly charmed, that his flat seems just like an material extension of that very same charm. 

 

 Nick also has an armchair, a huge plush, red thing that sits in the corner of the living room and Louis has claimed that chair as his right from the fucking beginning. If he was a cat, or maybe even a dog, the chair would be fucking drowning in his scent. He would have basically pissed on the thing if he thought it would have made even the slightest bit of difference at the end which they’re blindly careening towards.

 

One night, Nick and Louis screamed at each other for five hours straight, throwing insults like knives, knowing exactly where to aim and how much pressure to apply. When finally, finally, they had called a ceasefire, after sorting absolutely nothing out, but both too exhausted to continue, Nick had flopped into the armchair and pulled Louis into his lap, bending his legs awkwardly so they could both fit. 

 

They’d fallen asleep there and when dawn had creeped in, the sun burning almost softly in the sky, Nick had woken him up so they could watch the light pour in through the crack in the curtains, dust specks falling and swirling gently in front of them. Louis had got major cramp in his neck and foot and Nick couldn’t bend properly for a week, but Louis had loved him so so fiercely after that night, more fiercely than he thought he could ever love anyone. 

 

‘So this is it then.’ Nick says and Louis wishes he’d sit down. On the long, leather sofa or the fucking floor he doesn’t know which, he just wants him to sit. 

 

‘Think it’s for the best,’ Louis replies quietly. His words are loud though. They echo a little and Louis hates that they seem more loud than the lovely, gentle words he finds so hard to stutter out but still does, because he knows (for all that Nick will claim differently) that he loves hearing them. 

 

People have always heard Louis the clearest when he’s saying mean words. He’s come to learn it’s because that’s what they expect of him. 

 

‘So no more…’ 

 

‘No more anything.’ Louis clarifies. ‘Specially no more fucking.’ 

 

There’s this dead silence after that. Their entire relationship is basically designed on how they fuck. They’ve tried pretty much everything sexually, and whilst Nick isn’t _as_ into rough sex as Louis is, he’s definitely into biting Louis that little bit too hard, yanking Louis’ hair, spanking him when he’s been bad, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

 

Louis’ not quite sure how to live knowing he won’t have that anymore. 

 

‘Look on the bright side love,’ Louis says cheerfully and the words almost get stuck. Almost. But Louis’ a fucking pro at acting like he’s alright, so he just ploughs right on through. ‘You can have that wedding you always wanted now. Proper romantic. Max’ll look great in a tux.’ 

 

Nick stares at him and Louis stays still in the armchair, his fingers tightening just that little bit more into the arms. Nick’s really beautiful when he’s still, Louis thinks. Nick’s really beautiful all the time. 

 

‘You want me to get married to Max.’

 

‘You were the one who said yes sweetheart.’

 

Nick stares at him, an angry flush to his cheeks. He’s so fucking, like, immense when he’s angry that it makes Louis want to grab him and fuck him like there isn’t all this shit between them. Like in the morning, they can have slow, gentle sex and say everything they want to say. They can have morning coffee and try not to stutter around the slightly awkward silence, and Louis can be a prick to Nick without actually being a prick, and all those harsh words they seem to unable to keep silent, just remain unspoken. They can kiss without there having to be a reason, and the kiss can involve nothing except their lips- there doesn’t have to be tears or muttered words of complete dislike. They could just kiss. 

 

‘Louis, I don’t want you to think I’m exaggerating when I tell you this,’ Nick starts slowly, his words measured carefully. Louis arches an eyebrow. ‘But I really, really hate you. And I need you to leave and never come back.’ 

 

It was what Louis had kind of wished for, alone in his room late at night. Even from the beginning of it all, he thought they were the words Nick should have said right at the start, and fucking didn’t. Nick made this, if he had just responded this way, they would never have tumbled all the way down the fucking rabbit hole together. It would never have hurt and Louis could have sung all his songs about love and heartache and only half knew what they meant. 

 

Nick’s been breaking his heart since day one, and Louis’ not sure if he even wants the halves put back together again. 

 

-

 

_Mask (n)- worn as a disguise_

 

When Nick finally outs Louis, it gets a little bit more difficult to breathe. The picture’s gone viral. It did the instant Nick posted it. It’s one of Louis, bare chested in the kitchen of Nick’s flat, a mug of tea held to his chest and a distant smile on his lips. There’s a very obvious love bite at the bottom of his neck. 

 

Louis can’t stop looking at it. It’s the only tab he’s got open now, just the picture and Nick’s caption- _@Louis_Tomlinson remember that time you slept in my bed, darling?_  

 

Louis had sleepily opened up twitter, seen the amount of notification he had and then closed it straight down again. He hadn’t know what had happened, didn’t want to see. Could only guess. There were texts on his phone from all of the boys, even Harry. His mum had called twenty times. Louis’ phone had been on silent. There were three from Nick, and those were the ones he opened first. 

 

_I’m not even sorry._

_My marriage is over._

_I love you so much that I hate you. I’m not even kidding Louis, I hate you so so much._

 

It had been three weeks since Max had walked home to Nick and Louis in his kitchen arguing, had asked what was wrong and Louis had told him everything. He said it as vaguely, but as accurately as he could, watching as Max’s heart broke. Then, he turned to Nick, told him he was in love with him and walked away. He ruined Nick’s marriage and then walked out the door. It wasn’t the kind of destruction he had wanted to make, it really wasn’t. 

 

His destruction had been buried deep within Nick, had existed purely within the man he hated to adoration. He’d destroyed everything else around that love because it was the only thing he could think of that made sense. 

 

After he’d read the text he’d gone back onto twitter and seen the photo. Then he vomited all down the side of his bed. 

 

Then he tweeted. Because he couldn’t just not. He couldn’t not reply. He didn’t remember the last time he’d backed down from anything, a sly word from a pap, a comment from another singer, a stranger shouting shit in the street- he didn’t fucking back down.

 

Except now his mask had been ripped off and the whole world could see what was beneath. Louis wondered if he’d have to get the word fag inked onto his skin to make it stop hurting. 

 

_@grimmers not really. wasn’t that memorable_

 

Then he logged off of twitter. When his phone starts to buzz again he turns and throws it against the wall. It lands to the ground in pieces and Louis wants to cry because he can tell exactly how it feels. His pieces are on the ground. Nick’s basically thrown him against the wall. 

 

When the doorbell goes, it frightens him. He feels terrified. So he marches straight up to the door and throws it open, stood only in ratty pj bottoms. It’s Harry. He hasn’t spoken to Harry in so long, months, because Harry discovered all of Louis’ dirty little secrets and hated him for them. 

 

Not the gay part. For the ruining Nick’s life, and continuing to fuck a married man, and for never telling anyone about anything, and for falling in love and using it as a method of hurt. 

 

‘Well then, this is a bit of a shit innit,’ he says cheerily and Harry just stares blankly back at him. ‘What are you doing here Haz?’

 

There’s silence. 

 

‘What? It’s out now right? Everyone knows everything. It’s all out in the open- exactly like you wanted for me. Look how brilliant it all is.’

 

‘Louis-’

 

‘Is it cos I’m a fag? Have you come to see the fag?’ 

 

Harry’s pushing him into his house before the words are even fully out of his mouth, his hands tight in Louis’ shirt as he pushes him back against the wall. 

 

‘You are not that, Louis. Don’t call yourself that,’ Harry hisses and he sounds so fucking angry. Louis thinks it beautiful and wriggles a little, grinning when Harry basically snarls and pushes him back. 

 

‘It’s true though innit. Faggy One Direction member. Could you tell before?’

 

‘Louis.’

 

‘Tell from how high my voice is? How I used to wear fucking braces ‘cos i was a fucking idiot that didn’t even, I never even…’

 

‘Lou, it’s okay.’

 

‘Did you used to worry when we had to get changed together? Thought I might fancy you? Wouldn’t have blamed you mate, homo’s always fancy anything with a dick right?’

 

Harry looks a bit like he’s about to cry, and it’s sick but all Louis can think is _go on do it hate me hate me hate me_

 

‘I never worried. You’re my best friend.’

 

‘Shut up Harry,’

 

‘You are. My best friend ever. Love you,’ 

 

‘Fuck off.’ He starts to move properly now, tugging at Harry’s hand. It’s time for a drink. This shit’s gone off for too long. 

 

‘I won’t. Cos I love you and you’re my best friend, and I told Management that I’d come here to check on you, it’s okay that you’re gay Louis-’

 

‘Harry, I’m not kidding, shut the fuck up I swear to god,’

 

‘-and it’s okay that you fell in love with Nick. It’s okay that you’re in love with a man,’

 

‘Fuck you, I hate you,’ he’s screaming now, screaming and crying and Harry still won’t let him off the fucking wall. 

 

‘You don’t. You’re perfect as you are Lou, we all love you so much, all of us,’

 

‘I’m a fucking faggot Harry!’ He screams. His body is shaking from fear, and that huge wave of disgust that Louis’ been ignoring for as long as he can. ‘I’m a fag. I’m a homo, I am not okay. I will never be okay, not ever, because I am so fucking ashamed of this. I like dicks Harry, I fucking love penis and now, fucking now everyone knows and that’s just brilliant because everyone thought I was a homo from the beginning didn’t they? And with you, it was great, was quirky, everyone was so behind you and with me, I was just the closeted one that everyone thought was a dickhead. I am a dickhead, a dickhead and a faggot and I can’t, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.’ Louis sobs, his knees giving out beneath him. Harry’s arms tighten around his waist, pinning him close to his body. ‘Harry I don’t want it, take it out of me, please, I don’t want it,’ 

 

‘Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. Lou, look at me, look at me?’ 

 

Harry has tears streaming down his face and Louis touches them because he’s always liked pretty things and Harry is precious to him. He’ll keep these tears, he knows, because they are _for_ him. He’s not sure anyone’s ever cried for him before.

 

‘Lou, you think you’re a fag?’ 

 

Louis nods. 

 

‘Okay,’ Harry inhales deeply. ‘You’re a fag. And you know what babe?’

 

Louis shakes his head. He shuts his eyes. 

 

‘That’s okay. It’s okay.’ 

 

-

 

_Nota benne (v)- observe what follows_

 

The calm before the storm is endlessly talked about, but no one comments on the peace after it’s all passed. Louis can’t say he feels happy, not really. They’ve had to postpone their tour dates, but the boys keep coming to see him, barging into his home like they used to. They all did an interview, without him. They organised it with Ellen fucking Degeneres, and talked about how much they loved him. How supportive they were of Louis. Niall had gotten so worked up he’d almost hyperventilated. He hadn’t really noticed just how far he’d pushed them away until it all caved in and they were the only ones he could bear to see. 

 

He had a five hour phone call with his mum. He’s too much of a coward to talk to his sisters, so he tells his mum to tell them everything she can. He doesn’t know if they’ll end up hating him. He thinks that he created such a big line between himself and his family that it might not matter in the end. Maybe he lost them in the storm. 

 

Nick’s more famous than he’s ever been. His listening figures have gone up, almost doubled in numbers, he’s papped everywhere he goes but from the brief browsing of the internet, Louis can tell he’s getting just as much hate as he is love. 

 

The fans, the loyal, best fans Louis could ask for, don’t really know how to defend him anymore. There’s so many secrets that have only been half exposed and with the lock down of One Direction by their PR team, it’s unlikely they’ll get anymore information any time soon. 

 

People hate him. People send him death threats and tell him he’ll burn in hell. He gets sent bibles in the post. Some people send him dildo’s. Some celebrites praise him, defend him. Some call him a coward and a homewrecker. 

 

It’s not that Louis doesn’t care, it’s just that it’s all got to be so so much and he barely knows how to dress himself anymore. The word ‘fag’ is burned behind his eyelids. 

 

So he wallows and misses Nick and doesn’t cry. He eats the food Harry makes him, and smokes the cigarettes Zayn lights up and laughs at Niall and let’s Liam mother him like he’s ten years old. 

 

When the knock on his door comes at three in the morning, Louis’ sure it’s Harry. Knows Haz was at a party tonight and has maybe come to his looking for a place to crash. He answers the door unthinkingly, and when he see’s Nick, it feels like he’s finally exhaled for the first time in months. 

 

‘Thought there’d be more paps around.’ Nick comments when Louis moves out of the way of the door so Nick can come in. 

 

‘It’s three in the morning.’ 

 

‘They haven’t left my flat since it all.’

 

‘It was seven months ago.’

 

‘Still.’

 

‘Maybe you’re just more interesting than me.’ 

 

‘Not really true though, is it?’ 

 

It’s not. Not really. The reason the paps have left Louis alone, is because Louis literally hasn’t left his home in months. There’s been enough rumours spread by his PR team as well, that it’s unclear to the public if Louis’s even in his house. If he even lives where everyone thinks he lives.

 

Louis doesn’t meet his gaze. ‘Nah, you’re pretty boring really.’ 

 

‘Fuck, Louis, don’t do that.’ 

 

Louis wants to fight him. Louis wants to punch him in the face. He’s sure if Nick had turned up even a day earlier, and maybe not at three in the morning, that’s what he would have done. Because Nick outed him. He _outed_ him. Louis sort of kicked and nudged and tapped endlessly against the world Nick had created for himself, but Nick had fucking demolished Louis’ universe. Broke it in irreparable ways and now everyone knows he’s a fag.

 

Louis’ tired, he feels like it’s been years since he slept properly. 

 

‘Okay. I’m not.’ 

 

Nick blinks in surprise and then nods, shoving his hands into his leather jacket and then out again. 

 

‘I’m going to bed.’ Louis announces. Nick looks startled, like he expected Louis to stand with him in silence. Louis hates the quiet. 

 

He doesn’t look behind him to watch if Nick follows, just hears the shuffle of his feet along the wooden floor as they head upstairs. Louis doesn’t watch Nick strip down to just his underwear, and when Nick slips into Louis’ bed, laying on his back, Louis doesn’t hesitate to fall on top of him, pressing his face against Nick’s neck. 

 

He shifts a little, so that he’s basically straddling one of Nick’s thighs, lying directly over him. He curls his fingers in Nick’s chest hair and breathes. 

 

‘ _Darling,_ ’ Nick exhales onto the top of his head and Louis’ chest tightens. He says it like it’s a secret, a word that was created just for the two of them. And it means so much, it means endless and endless amounts that they’ve ripped each other apart just to play in the mess they’ve left behind, but Nick still calls him darling like they’re lovers. Like that’s all they’ve ever been, all they will ever be. 

 

Louis doesn’t care that Peter Pan died to stay young forever, he still wants to be him when he grows up, will forever. Louis doesn’t care that a relationship with Nick would be catastrophic in the most tragic of ways, that they exchanged flirting for co-dependence, and romance for sadness. He still wants to love him forever.

 

‘Talk later Nicholas.’ He whispers. ‘Sleep with me now,’ 

 

-

 

_Opalescent (adj)- showing many small points of shifting colour against a pale or dark background_

 

Nick celebrates his two year anniversary with Max by jetting off to Africa or Spain or somewhere that Louis pointedly doesn’t memorise. It’s all bollocks anyway. No one actually enjoys romantic holidays, everyone just pretends to so that other couples can splutter and grumble and get jealous over how perfect every other couple is in comparison to themselves. 

 

Louis also doesn’t ask how long Nick’ll be away for. He gets so horrendously wasted when Nick’s away, almost scarily drunk. 

 

He gave Nick a key, absentmindedly a while ago, and so isn’t at all surprised when Nick just lets himself into Louis’ house. He looks tanned and Louis wants to lick his skin. Instead he stays still on the sofa, watching as Nick frowns at the state of his house. 

 

‘Well. You’ve really gone all out on the whole no cleaning shit, haven’t you?’ It’s a very mild way to put it. In truth, Louis’ being stewing in his own filth the entire time Nick’s been away. 

 

He just tips the last of the vodka in the bottle up to his mouth, relishing the burn as it slips down his throat. 

 

‘Good holiday?’ He slurs and Nick comes to stand in front of the sofa, staring down at him. 

 

‘The very best,’ he replies. Louis hates that answer. Thinks it’s the worst answer Nick could have ever given him. _The very best._

 

‘Well how fucking great for you, bet that-’

 

‘Louis what the fuck is that.’ 

 

Louis squints up at Nick and tilts his head. Nick looks super tall when he’s sitting down. Nick’s so tall anyway, but he’s especially tall when Louis’ sitting down. 

 

‘What’s what?’ 

 

‘That on your arm?’

 

Louis looks down at his arm and grins. ‘Oh. I wrote it on,’ 

 

Nick glares at him then. He grabs Louis by the wrist and drags him down the hallway, continuously ignoring him when Louis starts to complain, which really, is not on. 

 

‘Nick, ow, what the fuck,’ Louis shades his eyes from the harsh light of the downstairs toilet, groaning when Nick pushes him back against the sink and grabs his arm, extending it towards Nick’s body. Louis can’t help but let his fingers stroke along the soft material of Nick’s shirt. 

 

‘What the fuck,’ Nick croaks out and when Louis looks back up, there are tears lining along the bottom of Nick’s eyes. 

 

‘Nick,’ he coos gently, his left hand coming up to stroke along Nick’s cheekbone. 

 

‘Why would you do that?’ Nick asks and he sounds so horrified. It’s a nice kind of naivety Nick has, Louis decides. It’s so gentle and soft that Louis can’t even be angry at him for it. 

 

‘It’s important to know your worst flaw Nicholas, so I wrote mine there. Make sure I won’t forget that way,’ Louis murmurs. It’s like explaining to a child. But then there are actual tears rolling down Nick’s cheek and he’s not sure if he likes this game anymore. 

 

‘Your worst flaw,’ Nick repeats and Louis nods, kissing him. Because he can. Because he loves kissing Nick more than anything in the world. Even the sex. He’d rather just be able to kiss Nick than do anything in the world. Like singing. Sometimes, on sad days, he cries because he knows he would give up all of One Direction- even his favourite boys- if it meant being able to kiss Nick and for that to be _okay_.  

 

‘What about these?’ Nick’s fingers stroke the little scratches along the side of his arm and Louis shrugs, inspecting them closely. He’s not sure he remembers doing that. He remembers thinking about it. 

 

‘It itched,’ Louis explains. 

 

‘Louis, I want to make love to you,’ Nick says carefully, he’s cheeks tinged with pink. Louis wants to laugh. He does a little, but it sounds more like a sob, or a whimper. It gets all caught in his chest and then doesn’t come out right. 

 

‘Why?’

 

‘I missed you.’

 

‘Can’t we just fuck?’

 

‘No, love.’

 

Louis looks at Nick properly, holding his eye contact and everything for as long as he feels is necessary. ‘Will you be gentle?’

 

‘Yeah.’

 

‘Can you kiss me when you do it?’

 

‘Yeah.’ 

 

Louis swallows. ‘I might cry,’ 

 

Nick kisses the side of his temple and draws him in close, his voice thick when he answers. ‘That’s alright.’

 

So Nick takes him to bed, and keeps his hand clamped down tightly around the ‘fag’ Louis has scrawled across his left arm in sharpie, shielding it from Louis’ eyes. 

 

He takes hours taking Louis apart. Fingering him open, licking inside of him, bringing him so close to the edge so many times and then not letting him come. 

 

‘Nick, I have to, I need to, please, I want, let me,’

 

‘No.’ Louis doesn’t really know why it sounds like love when Nick says it. 

 

He rolls Louis on top of him, hours later, minutes later, Louis doesn’t really know. Nick shuffles awkwardly backwards, his back resting against the headboard. It’s so dark in the room, Nick didn’t turn on the lights, but Louis can see him perfectly. Well almost. The other bits he just fills in from his mind. He has a whole catalogue of Nick’s faces in his head, it’s easy to just add in the missing details.

 

‘Ride me,’ Nick says and Louis fumbles for a moment, bending up on his knees and lining Nick’s cock up to his arse. He doesn’t bother with a condom, doesn’t even want to ask, doesn’t wait for Nick to protest. He just sinks down, gently, softly, and it’s so good, it’s filling him up so good. Nick lurches forward a little bit, both arms winding around Louis’ back, so that Louis is basically sat in his lap whilst Nick kisses along his neck. 

 

It’s only when Louis starts to move properly, bouncing on Nick’s dick, that Nick kisses him. _Can you kiss me when you do it?_ Louis thinks that, for maybe the first time, it really does feel okay.

 

Afterwards, Nick doesn’t kiss Louis’ scars, and Louis thinks it might be because Nick doesn’t think they should be celebrated. But he holds Louis close throughout the night, his arms secure and tight around him. To thank him, Louis pretends to be asleep when he hears Nick crying sometime in the middle of the night. 

 

-

 

_Pash (n)- a brief infatuation_

 

It wasn’t meant to go on for this long. Louis wasn’t meant to get trapped. 

 

-

 

_Queer (adj)- strange, odd, eccentric_

 

‘So, you weren’t happy at all?’ The interviewers looking right at him now, and Louis’ not really sure when the interview took such a deep, meaningful turn, but the other boys have rolled with it, so he pushes down his natural urge to make a joke, a song, an idiot out of himself just to lighten the mood and tries to answer as honestly as he can. 

 

‘No. I hated it. I just, I dunno, I went off the rails for a bit I think,’ he replies. 

 

‘It was obvious to us as well,’ Niall adds ‘Like, he wasn’t his normal, you know Tommo self. We just, there’s so much stuff we have to be doing all the time, that we weren’t really sure how to help.’ 

 

Louis winks at Niall after he’s finished speaking. Niall, who cleaned up his vomit from the side of the bed. Niall, who literally the next day donated five thousand pounds to The Trevor Project. Niall, who slept in Louis’ bed with him for four days straight after it happened, letting Louis cry it out on him. Niall, who adores Louis and has never tried to hide that fact. 

 

Niall, who adores Louis, even though he’s gay.

 

‘Do you hate it now?’ 

 

Louis tries very hard not to squirm on his chair. ‘Nah, I mean. I still have days where, it’s kind of rubbish, you know what I mean? Like I had a lot of urm, internalised homophobia, is what it’s called, and yeah sometimes, it’s not so great. But not all the time. It’s better now, I think.’ 

 

‘Do you blame Nick for outing you? It’s considered a pretty awful thing to do, regardless of you know, previous arguments or behaviours. ’ The interviewer asks and the boys all shift, their body language just that little bit more defensive, and Louis loves them so fiercely. So completely. They could murder a shit ton of people and Louis would be so disgusted with them, so angry at them, and then probably kill someone as well, just so they couldn’t go somewhere without him. So they couldn’t leave him behind. That kind of love is scary. 

 

He sighs thoughtfully. ‘Urm, no. And I mean it, I’m not just saying it to try and you know, prove how nice I am or anything like that. I wish he hadn’t done it the way he had, but then, you know, I pretty much forced him into that with my behaviour. I don’t blame him, I just, I got lost. I was so lost for so long, and I was, like, completely in love with him. I know the damage I caused, particularly to his fiancé and his family and I will never not regret that. So, no, I can’t blame him for finally calling me out. It really was entirely my fault.’

 

‘Was?’

 

‘I’m sorry?’

 

‘You said, ‘I was completely in love with him’, not anymore?’ 

 

Louis glances at Harry. At his best person. Harry quirks his lips, a tiny movement. ‘I’m still in love with him. It’s hard not to be. I can’t, the way I behaved was absolutely appalling, and I know that it lost Nick his job eventually, his husband. I just, I don’t deserve or expect forgiveness, my actions are not forgivable, I just beg that you know that I refused to leave Nick alone because I loved him. I was and am in love with him. It blurred my decisions.’

 

The interview continues.

 

-

 

_Refloat (v)- set afloat again_

 

They’re just leaving some very posh, elegant nightclub when Louis runs into Nick. Jack’s fiddling with one of Louis’ hands, leaning in sporadically to kiss Louis’ hair. They’re stood in some sort of foyer, taking the piss out of the chandeliers on the ceiling when Nick saunters in, his hair a little shorter and his phone clutched tightly in one hand. 

 

Louis doesn’t stop breathing, but it kind of feels like he starts. He’s gulping down air, drawing it into his lungs like the past five years haven’t even existed. The last Louis heard, Nick was trying again with Max; the paparazzi had fucking loved that. Louis was pretty certain that for at least two weeks, Nick and Max were stalked on every single date they went on, and Louis was still a little bit uneasy in the whole dating scene, but he was pretty sure camera flashes were a bit fucking annoying when you were trying to rekindle a marriage. 

 

‘Oh. Hiya,’ Nick says, looking just as dazed as Louis feels. 

 

‘Hi.’ He replies. 

 

‘Didn’t know you were gonna be here.’ Nick says ‘Normally they string out the welcome banners wherever former One Direction members go.’

 

Louis smiles and pushes his hair off his forehead a bit. ‘Nah, we weren’t gonna stay for the whole thing, only been here about an hour or so.’

 

He freezes suddenly at his words. _we weren’t gonna stay. we. we we we we we_

 

‘Uhhh, this is Jack by the way. My boyfriend.’ Louis says quickly, his hand tightening around Jack’s. Nick shakes Jack’s other hand and stares at Louis like he’s grown another head. It makes sense really. 

 

Louis’ stood in a public place, with photographers and journalists swanning around like the people inside the club are their own personal property to harass and follow, holding another man’s hand. 

 

He didn’t stutter on the pronunciation either, the word boyfriend no longer meant disgust and shame. It meant happiness and safety and peace and it meant, that it was _okay_.  

 

‘I didn’t know you, uh,’ Nick replies when he’s dropped Jack’s hand. ‘I’ve been out the country for a while. I must have missed the, you know, announcement.’ 

 

Jack laughs and Louis turns to watch him do it, liking the way his neck tenses. ‘It’s alright mate, wasn’t that big of a deal really. We just posted a picture on twitter, that was it to be honest. They figured out the rest.’ 

 

Nick looks slightly pained at Jack’s words, but Louis thinks it was a nice closure to his coming out experience. He was forced out by a posted picture, but he ended it with one as well. 

 

‘Was a long time ago mate,’ Louis says softly and Nick swallows thickly, turning his head away from the pair. 

 

‘It was good to meet you both,’ he says after a while, still not meeting either of their eyes. ‘It really was good. You, I’m so proud of you Lou,’ 

 

Louis’ never forgotten how to pretend like he doesn’t know Nick’s crying, but Jack moves forward as if to touch Nick and really, Louis doesn’t want either of them near each other anymore. The two major parts of his life have met and interacted and Louis doesn’t really want it to happen for any longer. Not when his chest is beginning to ache in a way that’s been unfamiliar for so long.

 

‘I’ll see you around. We’re gonna go wait for our taxi,’ Louis explains whilst tugging Jack away. 

 

‘Bye Louis.’ Nick says softly.

 

They get outside and are waiting for about two minutes when Louis turns to Jack and presses a kiss to his cheek. ‘I’ll just be one minute okay?’

 

Jack smiles a little sadly and nods. 

 

The love of Jack’s life died when they were both eighteen and Jack’s never really gotten over it. He wears the ring that was given to him on their two year anniversary, like it’s a wedding band, and Louis’ never asked him to take it off. In return when Louis whispered into Jack’s neck- ‘ _He could click his fingers and I’d go running’_ \- Jack didn’t cry or scream. He nodded and never asked who it was that Louis would be hung up on for the rest of his life. 

 

Louis wasn’t sure he ever needed Louis to say Nick’s name out loud. 

 

Louis sprints back into the club, scanning the foyer frantically when he says Nick stood by the doorway that leads to the actual main part of the club, his shoulders a little slumped and his phone pressed to his ear. 

 

‘Nick!’ He bellows, pegging it across the shiny floor. Nick turns just before Louis reaches him, dropping his phone to the floor when Louis throws his arms around Nick’s shoulders and holds him more tightly than he ever did when they were fucking. 

 

‘Louis,’ Nick says, and Louis’ three hundred percent sure he’s crying. He fists his hands in Nick’s jacket as Nick’s fingers dig into his back. 

 

‘Hi love,’ 

 

The next day, the pictures of their hug go viral and Harry rings him to tell him that he doesn’t know whether he’s happy or pissed that Louis would think of going down that route again. Louis just smiles into the phone as Jack cords a hand through Louis’ hair and does the crossword by his side. 

 

-

 

_Sacrifice (v)- give up (something valued) for the sake of other considerations_

 

‘Did he love you? Nick? Did he love you?’

 

It’s two in the morning and Max is looking at Louis like sadness and hope and hatred all mixed together. 

 

_louis i love you so much, because i’m fucking in love with you you fucking prick, love you god, i do love you, i’m so in love with you and you’re a fucking wanker, i’m in love with you louis_

 

‘No. It wasn’t like that between us. Not ever.’ 

 

‘Why did it go on for so long?’

 

Louis sighs heavily and stares at the water. He’s never been impressed by the River Thames. ‘It wasn’t like what everyone says it was. We weren’t… it was just fucking. Just sex.’

 

‘For him?’

 

‘Yeah.’

 

‘And for you?’

 

Louis doesn’t reply and Max doesn’t ask anymore questions. It’s three weeks later when Zayn warns him that Nick and Max have been photographed together. That they’re thinking of trying again.

 

-

_Sicken (v) -affect with loathing or disgust_

 

‘You’re kind of gross.’

 

‘You’re gross.’

 

Nick rolls his eyes and rolls over, pinning Louis to the bed, his hair tickling Louis’ chin whilst he sucks lazily at Louis’ neck. 

 

‘What are you doing?’ Louis asks, thumbing lazily through Twitter. It’s like, pretty much midnight and Louis doesn’t want Nick to leave tomorrow. He’s fairly certain Nick doesn’t want to go either. 

 

‘Sucking,’ Nick answers. Louis grins and tilts his head back. 

 

‘Yeah? Gonna keep to that one part of my body or?’

 

‘What other part did you have in mind?’ Nick’s words are muffled and a tiny bit of slobber drips down Louis’ neck. 

 

‘Think you know Nicholas.’ 

 

Nick cups his dick, gently, with seemingly no purpose or end point. Just to hold. Louis groans.

 

‘Nickkkkk,’ he whines. 

 

‘Shh. Happy here.’ 

 

Which is how they spend the next hour. When Nick finally pulls away from Louis’ neck, Louis’ so hard he can’t even remember his own name. His dick is straining against Nick’s palm, but any attempts to jolt up his hips have been stopped by Nick with his other hand, pressing down against Louis’ hipbone or stomach. Keeping him against the bed. 

 

‘Nick, come on,’ 

 

‘Be quiet Lou. Let me do this alright? Just, let me.’

 

Nick shuffles down the bed a bit, his mouth hovering just over Louis’ dick. Louis closes his eyes and tries to remember how to breathe when Nick’s mouth latches on to a piece of skin on the inside of his thigh instead, sucking and mouthing wetly at the skin. 

 

The room feels almost unbearably hot, and with his free hand Nick makes large, sweeping gestures up and down the inside of Louis’ leg. 

 

Eventually, his ministrations slow a little, so he’s just mouthing and licking at Louis’ skin, his lips wet and shiny. Louis is completely silent, which he doesn’t really understand as there is so much he has to say, so much he wants to say, but it’s like they’ve been locked up for a minute, pushed right to the back of his head. 

 

Nick doesn’t need him to be loud. 

 

Just for this moment, for this weird, sucking skin moment, Louis can be quiet. 

 

After his thigh, it’s the skin just below his knee, then the tiny swell of his stomach, he really can’t get rid of. Then his dick. 

 

When he comes, he passes out for however long and then won’t let Nick out of his sight. He’s never felt so needy in his life and also so completely unable to stop his behaviour- clinging to Nick like he will physically die if he stops. 

 

Nick wants to talk about it, Louis shuts him up by fingering himself open. Sex is a brilliant manipulation technique and Louis’ only slightly disappointed Nick fell for it. 

 

-

 

_Tawdry (adj)- showy but worthless_

 

He has millions of followers on Twitter and a whole bunch of awards and a shit ton of band mercy and the adoration of thousands of fans who would literally die, or kill, for him. 

 

For Louis though, it doesn’t really mean that much. 

 

What means a lot is when Harry spoons behind him after a movie, just like at The X Factor when Haz insisted on being the big spoon, even when he was slightly shorter. Or when Zayn tattoos something else that is a direct and unbreakable connection to Louis. Or how Liam shouts at him when he drinks too much, but always, unfailingly makes him soup after. Or how Niall is endlessly supportive; hopelessly devoted to you Lou, he’ll croon. Or how his mum still loves him. Or how his sisters get suspended at school for kicking the kids that call One Direction stupid or gay, how Fizzy and Lottie go to Gay Pride marches and blabber on to anyone who’ll listen about Louis, yes the gay one from One Direction.

 

How he wonders if Nick still takes showers that always last over twenty minutes or the way he used to watch Louis dance to his Spice Girls CD with this stupid grin on his face, or the way that Nick’s fingers in his hair and mouth sucking gently at his neck, the skin of his wrist, his shoulder blade, is the only method of comfort Louis’ found that will actually calm him down. Can make him stop moving, just for a second. 

 

These moments, writhing in their insignificance, these are the ones that keep him safe. These are the things they can never pry away from him. 

 

-

 

_Thole (v)- undergo or suffer pain without complain or resistance_

 

He’s spent the last two hours steadily avoiding Nick’s eye, with the cameras trained almost comically on the entire One Direction table after their reunion. Louis keeps fidgeting and Harry’s hand is pressed tightly around his knee to try and quell his shaking. Louis glances up to the sky and prays briefly for a minute that there are no photographers or cameramen sat directly behind him or the Larry shippers will loose their shit. 

 

Niall’s laughing hysterically at the host, a woman Louis doesn’t recognise, or care about. Nick’s sat a couple of tables over and Louis wants to touch him so badly he thinks he’s going to die from it. 

 

Nick still with Max. Louis bought the magazines and read every single article, and all it’s ever been is this. Only ever this. 

 

‘Have to go to the loo,’ Louis murmurs absently and Harry narrows his eyes.

 

‘Really?’

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘I’ll come with,’

 

‘Absolutely not.’

 

Harry shifts in his seat, drink sloshing over the side of his glass. ‘Lou?’

 

‘Just, I need a piss Harold. Not a fucking minder,’ 

 

Harry raises his hands in the air, eyebrows raised as he turns to talk with Zayn. Louis swivels on his heels and darts off between the tables, steadfastly ignoring Nick even though it feels like his heart is about to literally pound right through his chest. 

 

He’s barely through the door when a body presses right up against him, familiar hands pressing into his hips as he’s pushed into one of the toilet stalls. Louis’ opening his mouth to speak when Nick swivels him around and pins him to the wall, letting his mouth crash down onto Louis’. 

 

They kiss helplessly, Louis tugging Nick’s head back up towards his mouth whenever Nick gets distracted and aimlessly kisses down Louis’ throat or jaw. 

 

‘Can’t keep away from you. Fucking still, it’s been years Lou, God,’ Nick pants, his hands fisting in Louis’ blazer, his jaw tense and his hands clumsy. 

 

Louis hasn’t cried during sex since Nick but now, fucking now, he can feel it rise in throat. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, not again, he doesn’t want this again. Except for how he wants it so badly he can’t do anything other just react. 

 

‘It’s okay,’ Louis tries to soothe, but it’s so unnecessary when Nick can fucking _see_ just how affected Louis is by this. How he’s just as much a wreck as Nick is. 

 

‘Don’t make me stay away,’ Nick pleads, relentlessly pressing kiss after kiss to Louis’ mouth, his half hard dick pressed right against Louis’ thigh. ‘God, Louis, don’t disappear like that,’ 

 

‘Thought you wanted, fuck!’ Louis cries, arching against Nick when he starts to suck at the skin of Louis’ collarbone. ‘Never to see me. Thought you didn’t want me. You’re fucking _him_ again, you’re fucking him again, so don’t talk to me about-’ 

 

‘ _Louis_ ,’ Nick groans, dropping his head to Louis’ collarbone. ‘I always want you.’ 

 

Which is of course, when the fucking steward or runner or whoever, comes barging into the bathroom, the door opening with a deafening bang. 

 

‘Mr Tomlinson? Louis?’ 

 

‘Shit,’ Louis breathes and manages to pull away from Nick’s lips to rest his forehead against Nick’s chin. He doesn’t want it to stop. Not now, not when he’s been so long since he and Nick have even looked at each other, let alone touched. 

 

‘Go on popstar,’ Nick murmurs and pushes at Louis’ hips. ‘Time to go,’

 

‘Louis?’

 

‘Just one minute. Please.’ Louis stutters out, the words shaky around his frantic breathing.

 

‘Go,’ Nick repeats and Louis shakes his head, feeling horny and uncertain and completely fucking desperate not to leave this bathroom. 

 

‘Don’t wanna go,’ 

 

Nick presses his mouth gently to Louis’ and it feels like a promise. Which, after everything, should mean completely nothing. They’ve made hundreds of promises to each other over the years, both spoken and unspoken and Louis’ not really sure why now should be any different. 

 

Like a complete fucking moron, he trusts Nick anyway and pushes out of the loo cubicle, raising his eyebrows in greeting to the steward, runner, man stood in the doorway. 

 

‘One Direction’s about to win,’ he’s informed quickly before having to practically sprint back to the table, hurtling into his seat just as the award is announced. Louis smirks at Harry when they walk towards the stage. 

 

‘That’s how it’s fucking done Harold.’ He grins and Harry flips him the finger quickly which is definitely caught on camera and broadcast on national telly. 

 

Louis doesn’t really listen to the speeches the other boys make, not because he’s ungrateful, he’s so fucking proud of the lads and the way they’ve managed to pull it all back together one last time. But he knows Nick’s waiting for him somewhere, and so the last place he wants to be is stood on the stage whilst a billion fucking cameras blink at him from the stalls. 

 

-

 

_Vicissitude (n)- a change of circumstances_

 

‘Louis, mate, are you listening?’ Niall asks, his blue eyes soft around the edges, his gaze tinged with sympathy. 

 

‘Yeah.’

 

‘He’s going to marry him again.’

 

‘Yeah.’

 

‘And you’re just gonna let it happen? Like last time?’

 

Louis looks up at Niall and grins. ‘Fuck, no.’ 

 

-

 

_Zenzic (adj)- square of a number_

 

Louis learned when he was eighteen years old that if you square nine ones after they have been concatenated together, you will get a palindrome (e.g.12345678987654321). He doesn’t really remember why this was a fact that stuck out to him, he hated maths with a fucking passion, but his maths teacher was kind to him; understanding of Louis’ obsessive need for attention in a way that Louis didn’t think even his mum quite got. 

 

So Louis remembered the fact and carried it around in his mind, pressed right to the back, because for all he knew, it was worthless. Just something he’d been told once that didn’t mean anything and never would. 

 

Now though, so many years down the line, he thinks about that number and associates it with himself and Nick, more than anything else. More than the picture of Louis in Nick’s bed on Twitter, more than the tacky little toys they bought it each other whenever they were on holiday, more than Nick’s wedding ring which he basically threw at Louis when it all went tits up. 

 

More than anything else, the number makes sense. 

 

Because they started with each other and they’d end with each other. He’s pretty certain he knew that right from the beginning, it just took a little time for the fog to clear. He’s never going to get over Nick, not properly, and he has found that there’s nothing more heartbreaking than being in a relationship with someone who is so very aware that they’re always gonna come second best. 

 

Nick’s a dickhead and he’s ruined Louis’ life in more ways than one, but he’s also kind of beautiful and Louis won’t ever try to put into words what love means or what the love he and Nick have for each other stands for or accumulates to or just _is._

 

It’s a fucking mystery and he loves it just as much as it pisses him off. 

 

When the doorbell rings, it’s Nick stood on the other side. 

 

‘I’m getting married today.’ Nick says and Louis’ stomach fucking flips over. His palms are sweaty and he feels kind of sick. 

 

‘I heard,’ he replies and leans against the doorframe, looking out at the sky. It’s quite a cloudy day, a few patches of blue sky bursting through the grey. Louis’ pretty sure Nick loves that, means symbolism and shit. 

 

‘You definitely gonna be there?’ Nick asks and Louis smiles. He’s tired, he didn’t sleep so well last night. 

 

‘Yeah. Wouldn’t miss it.’ 

 

Nick smirks and pushes a hand through his hair. He ducks his head for a few seconds and when he looks back up, he’s treating Louis to the biggest, purest smile Louis’ ever seen. 

 

‘See you there then hubby,’ Nick winks and Louis rolls his eyes, pushing off the door. 

 

‘Not your hubby yet Nicholas, don’t fucking jinx it.’ 

 

‘Always me, yeah Lou?’

 

‘Always you babe.’ 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was alright, I feel like it maybe wasn't? Let me know what you thought, if you want to! I am on tumblr- thenleavetheband- so come and say hello if you want. Or not, like, whichever you want!


End file.
